I nod. “My very favorite.”
From the ground Mack says, “No—”
I say, “And to the golden boys.”
Duffy and Malcolm say, “To the golden boys!”
They raise their glasses and I raise mine. The crystal clinks together with so much singing shrieking power I can’t believe they don’t see the death’s-heads floating in the amber.
Mack struggles and says, “No, don’t, don’t—”
I laugh.
I bring my glass to my lips. The poison crawls close.
Malcolm and Duffy drink deep. Duffy shouts, “It’s over.”
Malcolm says, “We won.”
Mack says, “No—”
I spin again and tower over him. “What? Do you want to drink with us?”
His traitor-green eyes shine and he says, “No—”
I say, “Why not? It’s just a drink.”
He says, “Jade, no, I didn’t—”
I hold out the glass. There is death in Mack’s eyes.
He reaches a shaking buried hand out to take it. He knows exactly what I’m giving him. He’s ready to die.
But that would be too easy.
I let the glass fall and shatter on the ground. The poison splashes between us. Burning into the concrete and spitting onto my gown.
Mack’s head drops. Malcolm and Duffy laugh giddy and guiltless. I tip my head back and stare up into the sky. The stars blaze bright.
This is the end.
The Queen
Duffy falls first. Duffy the follower, leading at last.
He hits the ground and his whole body wracks and shakes and shudders—
—and next to him Malcolm panics and falls to his knees and says, “Duff—what is it—what’s wrong—”
Duffy is contorted and strange and his jaw cracks against itself. He can’t speak. He can’t fight.
Then Malcolm realizes. He jumps up and shouts at Mack: “What did you do?”
Mack stares hollow.
Malcolm says, “Jade! He did something—where did you get the liquor—”
I take his hands in mine. The black silk glides smooth over his skin. I whisper to him, “Give it a minute. You’ll be gone.”
“Fuck!” he shouts. “Fucking bitch! It was you all along—”
He yanks free and grabs his phone and I knock it out of his hands. It flips across the concrete. He ducks for it but then—
—then it’s his turn. Little-boy Malcolm, who stood at the counter and mixed the drink for the brother he wanted to be.
I watch them both for a drawn-long moment. Writhing. Dying.
I don’t feel anything at all.
I turn away from them and face Mack. He stares ruined and guilty.
I can’t remember how it felt before. I don’t know why my pulse fluttered feathery under my skin when he said I’ve never loved anyone more, or why it meant anything when we fell together into his bed the night I made him kill Duncan.
He is the dazzle-smiled boy.
He is the one who will end it. He knows it as well as I do. He sees his death on my face. He wants it.
But it won’t be his until he’s had his heart ripped out and frozen.
It hurts more when someone you love is holding the knife, I said to Jenny and Summer and Mads when we sat in my room on Saturday morning with the lacrosse boys in our hands.
I was right.
I was a prophetess even then.
I tell Mack, “I’ll be waiting.”
I walk away from him. Through the broken glass. Past the broken boys still dying slow and horrible. Through the broken window and into the dark.
I don’t need light.
I walk back through the kitchen and pick up the poisoned amaretto. Cradle it close and carry it with me into the low broad room with the dead-king masks guarding the walls. In the cold shadowed silence one ghost spins alone. Her hair is long and platinum-blond. Her dress is short and shining.
Deep in the dark, a clock chimes. Twelve bright gold clangs.
It’s Friday again.
I walk the path Connor dragged me down that night. I can’t feel his hands clamped onto my arms anymore. I can’t feel the haze. I can’t feel the thudding heavy bass that followed us all the way to the end of the hall even when the music bled dull into the melting walls.
The door is open. The air is charged and sparking.
I turn on the light.
The room is empty. Everything is perfect and undisturbed and no one would ever know anything happened here. No one would know how they sneered and shouted and crushed me down.
No one would ever know what happened to that little whore with the jade-green eyes.
I could say, It never happened.
But I don’t lie when it matters.
I walk one foot in front of the other to the edge of the white-sheets bed. I sit down. I set the poison on the clear-glass nightstand. I fold Mads’s sunglasses next to the bottle. I close the silver crucifix in my hand and yank hard. The chain breaks against my neck and I drop it on the glass.
Silver was never my color. My color is gold, like the crown on my head. Black, like the gloves that bury the stitches I don’t need.
Red like my dress. Red like my lips. Red like the blood of the boys I killed.
Footsteps echo on the marble. Staggering but steady.
I asked Duncan, after he kissed me hard and hungry, Do you believe in fate?
He said, No.
I said, You should.
And I told Mack all along, It had to be you. It had to be us.
It was a lie to drag him closer and bind him to me. I didn’t believe it. I knew I was fate, my coven and me.
His footsteps scrape closer.
That night, when Duncan saw me across the room and whispered to Duffy—
when Malcolm mixed the drink and Mack brought it to me—
when Connor dragged me biting and clawing into this room—
when Banks said, fuck, Dunc, you know how to pick them—
when Piper slammed the door shut with Porter guarding it and they left me to the wolves—
when I fought and fought and fought and lost—
—it was fate.
It was spelled into our stars when Mads dyed my hair and Jenny bought the contacts and Summer gave me the dress and we swallowed vodka and cruelty and went winging out to crash the St Andrew’s Prep party on my sweet sixteen.
I said, I spat, I swore: You picked the wrong girl.
They did.
They had to.
It could only be me.
Not the first—
—but the last, the last, the last.
They picked the right girl.
White
Mack says, Jade.
I don’t turn to him. I sit with my back straight and my crown shining and my dress painting me proud and unruined.
Mack says, I love you.
I say, “I know what you did.”
He says, “I didn’t.”
I say, “You know you’ll die tonight. You know I’ve made this all your fault. You might as well tell the truth if you’re going to waste your time saying you love me.”
His shadow casts over the white. His breath comes ragged.
He says, “I didn’t know.”
He says, “Jade, I’m begging you. Look at me. You know me.”
I say, “We’re nothing to each other. I’m just a girl you wanted to fuck. You’re just a boy I let fuck me because I wanted to see how many of your friends I could make you kill.”